Page 48 of Where We Began

He makes a noise in his throat. I'm thinking he'll stop and back off, but it's like my admission has woken something in him. He rocks his hips rhythmically, rubbing his hard-on against my ass. We're doing an erotic dance, my body following his guidance as I shift side to side.

He makes little circles through the fabric of the dress, not touching my clit, but almost. My mind connects the dots; it's like he's fingering me already, the heat washing through my muscles, into my brain, until I see spots.

“You're actually a virgin? Does that mean you waited all this time for me?”

I whimper, wishing I could deny it. My hesitation ruins any chance at letting him claim responsibility for the fact I've never had sex with anyone else. “Dominic,” I say again, his name coming out like a plea.

“I'll be gentle,” he promises.

“We can't do this.” I continue to roll my hips desperately. The pressure inside of me is torture and I feel liquid clinging on the inside of my thighs. I've never been so aroused. And he hasn't even touched me yet, not really. “We really can't. I told you before.”

“I told you that the first hint that I got of you—”

“No,” I say, cutting him off. “I know what you said and I get it, and... I'm just not ready.”

He nuzzles my ear. “Then I won't fuck you,” he purrs. His hand slides lower, hoisting my dress and exposing my thighs. In the mirror I can see my tan skin and the front of my white panties. They're sheer from being soaked through with my own juices. “I'll just finger you until you come.”

I blush head to toe. Arguing is pointless. I'm too transfixed on the sight of us—of me. I've never done anything like this. If I don't think about it too hard, I can almost pretend I'm watching someone else. I watch my lips part, my teeth bared. I moan helplessly as he slips two fingers down, creating a V the outside of my damp panties over my lower lips. He traces me, dipping low, then coming back up, massaging my pussy with expertise.

His lips come down, kissing the side of my neck. The hand on my pussy goes still, making me painfully aware of how little it's moving. Of how he's stopped bringing me pleasure. He runs his fingers side to side over my panties, stroking my eager clit. “Watch me,” he whispers. I look in the mirror to see that he's fixated on me. “I want you to watch me be the first man to ever make you come. You'll remember this moment for the rest of your life.”

He's absolutely right. I used to dream about stuff like this with him, before I knew the man he would turn into. I'm excited, but I'm also nervous. I'm afraid what this will mean for us. If he makes me orgasm, will my body remember it all the time? Will I be able to move on?

My skin on my shoulders feels cooler. He's sliding the dress down my ribs, getting it out of the way. As it peels down my body, he reveals the fact that I'm not wearing a bra. He sucks in a sharp breath and my heart beats faster. “You're stunning,” he whispers. He follows the curve of my neck, down my shoulder, with his free hand. The one clasping my pussy in a handshake remains where it has for the past minute.

I'm shivering, and I blame those compulsive twitches on why I press myself into his palm. His chuckle is devilish in my ear. “You can't wait for me to make you come, can you?” I don't say anything. He gives my pussy a squeeze. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it out loud.”

“Dominic, I can't... I can't say something like that.”

“Of course you can.” He makes a light circle on my clit over my underwear; I moan obscenely. “Tell me that you can't wait for me to make you orgasm, or I'll stop.” He rubs my clitoris once more, just to remind me how good it feels. Then he places his fingers so that they're on the inside of my right thigh, no longer in contact with my dripping panties.

My heart is thudding so loudly I can hear it reverberating in my head.

“Say it,” he growls

I breathe faster, staring at myself in the mirror, at the black hunger in his eyes. He wants to devour me, and I want to give him that nourishment. I can't fight anymore. When I look at his hand resting on my leg, juice coating my skin where my panties have stopped being able to hold it, I wonder why I'm fighting this at all.

“Make me come,” I groan.

Dominic's face changes. My filthy words transform him in front of my eyes. He rips the dress down my hips, leaving me in just my panties. My nipples are firm nubs in the air, so sensitive, so ready to be touched. He puts his lips on my shoulder; I feel his teeth. It's not painful, just like he's biting down to tell me that hecouldleave marks if he desired. A perverse part of me loves the idea of him marking me.

His hand cups the side of my right breast. He hefts it, like he's checking the weight. “Your tits are fucking amazing.” His breath is coming hot and fast on my throat. He's drying out the sweat that keeps appearing on me. I rock side to side, grinding on his hard-on through his pants. He squeezes my leg, pulling me against him.

His fingers trap my nipple, giving it a small tug. Then he circles the tender tip, pushing my nipple in all directions, playing with me, figuring out what I like or don't like. Problem is, I like everything he does. I'm terrified of that, I don't know if I can handle the inability to tell him no. I thought I had limits. Rules.

All of them are dissipating in front of me.

“I wanted to touch you like this for so long,” he whispers. “I'm going crazy right now. It's taking everything I have not to yank my cock out and push it into your convulsing pussy. I can't wait to make it mine, to be your first. Because I'm going to, Laiken,” he swears. “I'm going to be your first in everything.”

I whimper, barely able to watch myself in the mirror anymore. I don't recognize myself. The red glow in my face, the way my mouth hangs open as I pant wildly. My chest rises so fast that my breasts quiver. As he moves his hand over to play with my other nipple, he cups my pussy then wraps his fingers in my panties. He pushes them into my slit, driving the wet fabric against my empty cleft. The pressure against my clit is delicious. The reminder that there's nothing inside of me is torture.

“Touch me,” I breathe. “Please, Dominic, I can't take this.”

“Not yet. You think you know what suffering is? What it's like to ache for someone so badly and not be able to have them? You turned me down in the library, Laiken. I swore then that I'd break you. That's happening now, but I'm not through with you. I want you begging me to make you come. I want you to know that I'm the only one who'll ever make it happen.”

It's an insane promise he makes. I know it, and I wonder if he knows it, too. But what's even crazier is how turned on it gets me. My arousal is skyrocketing; a flash of hot, delicious pleasure making me thrust my pelvis forward into his touch.

“I really can't take it,” I whimper. “I feel like, if you just touch me a little bit, I'll come.” A strong breeze could knock me over the edge.

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